her favourite umbrella rack

they drank
until the lights
turned strange
and the floor was soft under-ass,
and the bottles were empty,
and there was nothing
left to do.
then she turned what she could
to look at him
to say
she’d had enough
‘I’ve had enough,’
and he told her
she hadn’t
‘like hell you have, you bitch,’
and a glass
peeled into
three pieces
falling next to the umbrella rack,
and when she didn’t move
he crawled next to it
for a last taste
then curled into sleep.

when he woke
the floor was hard,
the bottles still empty,
and two birds
that had flown through
an open window
were perched
on the umbrella rack above,
and he was
in shit.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *